A Language I Don't Speak
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: There are a lot of things Nick knows, and then there's the things he doesn't. Slight unrequited Seblaine, plus Nickbastian friendship. Nick!POV. Sequel to 'Everything Will Break.'


**A Language I Don't Speak**

_I've been watching your world from afar  
I've been trying to be where you are  
And I've been secretly falling apart, unseen_

* * *

"Do you like him?"

Jeff's voice suddenly startles Nick out of his reverie, his eyes snapping away from where they had been focused on a lone figure across the courtyard. Sebastian is perched on the front steps that lead to the main hall, his figure hunched over some sort of notebook that he is scribbling away in furiously, and Nick isn't quite sure how long he's been staring. Watching Sebastian is as commonplace, as _necessary_ to him by now as breathing, and it is only under the calculating stare of his best friend that he pauses to consider his own actions.

_Does _he like Sebastian? Nick allows the thought to flit through his mind, his gaze darting back to the boy in question. He does seem to have a morbid fascination with him; constantly observing and assessing, storing away each word and each movement, trying to piece together the image that is Sebastian Smythe. It should be alarming, this curiosity that appears to have infiltrated Nick's being. But it isn't.

"No," comes his quiet reply, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the jerky motion of the pencil in Sebastian's hand and the drawn tension in his shoulders. Nick can feel Jeff's stare, knows that his answer sounds far from genuine, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Are you sure?" Jeff presses, a long moment having passed. Nick tears his attention away from Sebastian in order to look at Jeff straight on, noting the doubtful twist of his lips and the concerned sheen in his eyes. Silently, he attempts to convey his own sincerity across the table towards his friend, tipping his head slightly in Sebastian's direction.

"He's just...Sebastian, you know?"

And Nick knows that Jeff _gets _it. This is why they've always been close, closer than the friendships of the other Warblers; Jeff has the uncanny ability to recognize what isn't being said, and Nick has always been a man of few words. They just...work, no question about it, and when Jeff directs a short glance over his shoulder, his features softening as he offers an understanding nod, Nick finds himself surprisingly grateful.

"D'you think he's okay?" Nick's fingers run absently over the tabletop in front of him as the words leave Jeff's lips, and he finds that he can only manage a small shrug in response.

"I...don't know. I honestly don't know."

With all that Nick _does_ know, from the fact that Sebastian is ridiculously OCD about the organization of his closet, to his unhealthy addiction to Arizona Green Tea, to his monstrous fixation on one Blaine Anderson, Nick realizes with startling clarity that he _really doesn't know._ He has no idea if Sebastian is okay, if he's even on his _way_ to being okay, and for a split second, that worries him.

Until the most peculiar thing happens, and Sebastian looks up.

His pencil goes slack in his hand as he lifts his head, and Nick can see the hollowness in the boy's gaze even as their eyes meet from opposite ends of the courtyard. Sebastian's eyebrows remain furrowed, and Nick finds himself glancing down to where his fingers curl possessively around the edge of the notebook in his lap. He takes a mental snapshot, _for later,_ because he doesn't quite know what else to do. For all the time Nick's spent watching, he's never been so explicitly caught before.

When he peers upwards again, Sebastian is pushing himself to his feet, shoving the notebook into his bag and scampering into the looming building behind him, leaving a befuddled Nick in his wake.

* * *

"Duval."

For the second time that day, Nick is called out of his own whirling thoughts, and when he lifts his head, Sebastian is towering over the foot of his bed, arms curled loosely around his middle. Nick had been trying his best to work his way through _The Great Gatsby_ for his AP Lit class, knees tucked up to his chest and back against the wall as he sat comfortably atop his mattress. The sight of Sebastian though, so abrupt and defeated, has him dropping the novel to his side and straightening up from his slouch.

"What's up?" He does his best to sound casual as he catalogs Sebastian's appearance, his set jaw and empty gaze, an old Dalton hoodie hanging loosely off his frame (and _holy shit,_ when did his roommate get so skinny?)

"Why?"

One word; simple, punctuated by the wrinkling of the other boy's forehead as he stares down into Nick's eyes. The rest of the question doesn't need to be stated; they both know what Sebastian is asking. Nick, however, is thrown, because he doesn't have an answer. Again.

He doesn't know why.

"You do this thing, you know—whenever you're irritated," he finds himself speaking without really stopping to formulate his thoughts, the words spilling out unbidden. "You get this tightness, right here...in your jaw. Or when you're frustrated, this crease shows up between your eyebrows...you're surprisingly easy to read. I know you must hate to hear that, but it's sort of true. And it just _bugs_ me, because you're so dead-set on coming off as this mysterious, pretentious jackass, and for the life of me, I can't figure out _why_."

Nick has no idea where any of this is coming from, or how Sebastian is even going to react, but he finds himself unable to stop. There isn't any point in holding back now, anyway; he might as well dig himself all the way down to rock bottom.

"See, Sebastian—you're a cool guy. Honestly. Sure, you can be a giant prick a lot of the time, but I _know_ that's not you, just like I know that you can write with both hands; compute numbers and equations in your head like it's nobody's business; hell, I'm pretty sure I've even heard you muttering Mandarin into the phone a couple of times." He pauses and sucks in a deep breath, "I know that you love music. That it's your...escape, or whatever, because I also know that you don't get along with your family very well. I may not know why, but I know that some horrible shit has happened to you, probably because of them, and now you try to be this silent, closed off _douchebag,_ and I just..."

At a sudden loss for words, Nick runs his fingers anxiously through his hair, his eyes glued to some inconsequential place on the wall behind Sebastian's shoulder. "I know that you're in love with Blaine," he murmurs, voice lowered significantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the visible flinching of Sebastian's body and frowns, curling his fingers in the front hem of his own t-shirt. "I know that you think you fucked up. But I know for a fact that if you tried, Blaine would be willing to listen."

The room is eerily quiet after he finishes, lit only by the muted glow of the lamp on Sebastian's bedside table. Nick finds his eyes drawn towards the photograph, the goddamn photograph that might as well have started this entire mess, and that leads back to thoughts of Sebastian, of his emotional walls and haunted stare, of his muffled sobs trailing off into the night. Subconsciously, he feels the bed dip beneath him, and then Sebastian is beside him, head bowed and palms tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. The two sit in absolute stillness, Sebastian lost in his own thoughts and Nick too afraid to open his mouth after his previous outburst. Finally, _finally,_ Sebastian's head rotates ever so slightly, and when Nick turns to meet his eyes, which are nearly pitch black in the dim lighting of the room, he knows that this "obsession" he has with Sebastian isn't quite so simple anymore.

He _cares,_ and that terrifies him, because he's pretty sure Sebastian doesn't want him to care; doesn't want _anyone_ to care.

"Why?" The other boy repeats, and this time, the word is hardly above a whisper as Sebastian sinks back in on himself, his head ducking and leaving Nick staring over at the faint outline of the top of his head. Nick turns over possible answers in his mind, knowing that he has to get this one right, has to somehow make Sebastian understand. In the end, it boils down to only one explanation.

"You're...Sebastian."

There is a heart stopping moment where Sebastian's face contorts, and Nick frets because he _doesn't get it,_ until seconds later something seems to wash over the other boy, just like with Jeff earlier in the day. Sebastian's shoulders slump and his eyes fall shut, and as Nick watches him, _really _watches him, he feels something inside his chest fracture and break open, and before he's aware of what he's doing, he's reaching over and grasping gently at Sebastian's face with both palms, his voice a soft mumbling between them.

"You don't have to say anything. Not yet. Just..." He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth as he searches for words, gaze hesitantly searching Sebastian's. "...just know that things will be okay."

Nick wants to add that _you'll be okay,_ but he can't make that promise. He can't, and it kills him, but as Sebastian's head inclines in a slow nod and Nick's fingertips graze the stubble along his jaw, the skin warm beneath his fingertips, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that promise will come later.


End file.
